


Morbid Curiosity

by Amythesica



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Bloodcurse, Books shops, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Diagon Alley, F/M, Horcruxes, I had no idea where I was going with this when I started it, Knockturn Alley, Mild Character Bashing, Minister of Magic Tom Riddle, Minor Violence, Non-canonical magic, Not Beta Read, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Sane Tom Riddle, Soulmates, This started as a fem!harry, about 3000 words in, and then I grew weak, it's just mentioned briefly, kind of, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 06:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19997386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amythesica/pseuds/Amythesica
Summary: It had started out as a morbid curiosityIt grew to an obsessionIt developed into a wantIt evolved into a needIt became her salvation





	Morbid Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note, the character pairing AE in the names is using the Old English pronunciation EE.

* * *

_It had started out as a morbid curiosity_

* * *

Whenever she’d go to Diagon Alley with her friends or family, she’d always find herself paused, staring down that darkened street. Her mind would swirl with all of the endless possibilities. It would roil with all of the endless reasons, and the vast—if not inane—excuses given to her. Would churn dizzyingly with all of the captivating allure and the insistent yanking on her very soul to go discover what could possibly be lying in wait.

Often times, her companions would come back for her after they had realized that she had fallen behind, and was once again staring down into the abyss. They would painfully tug her away as they ignored her pleas to stay and to just take a peek.

It was often that she feared she would never find her way down that narrow path.

|}(July 1991){|

She was eleven and shopping for her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when she had been able to slip away— _finally_ —undetected into that small lane. She had made it to the start of the third store, _Rare Resources_ , before the insistent and frantic screaming of her name forced her to return to her family.

When they had seen her emerging from that ‘dreadful place’—insert eye roll—she was latched onto by two of her brothers—one who somehow they were going to be in the same year (they had long expected that one of them was adopted—she was betting it was him, while he insisted that it was her). She was hauled through the busy shoppers by them, the two ignorant of the bruises that they were forming on her arms and shoulders.

For the rest of the day, insistent eyes, and worried hands stayed either latched onto her, or not far away, never letting her out of reach.

She had never felt so confined in their family of nine before.

* * *

_It grew into an obsession_

* * *

After her first trip down that narrow path, it was as if something inside of her had been ignited and now burned brightly with an intensity that rivaled even the brightest of _lumos’_. She had an unending hunger to explore, to find out what was so…wrong, with somewhere so…fascinating. She soon found herself sneaking away from her family in the dark of the night to go explore.

It quickly became common to find her in one of the many shops—especially the bookstores—after the sun had set, browsing offered wares and buying those that she could afford from her meager allowance, before she stowed them away in the bag that was always on her person, yet never seen.

|}(July 1992){|

When she was twelve, she started helping Jonas Morginnson, the young owner of her favorite bookshop, _Morginnson’s Dark Tomes and Scrolls_ , do inventory and stocking in exchange for a galleon an hour—way too much payment in her opinion. However despite such a large paycheck, she rarely ever arrived home with more than 10 sickles, because she’d almost immediately spend the galleons on books that she had found interesting and wanted—needed—to buy.

It wasn’t long before he had to place another expansion charm on her bag, and it wasn’t long after that, that he had to teach her shrinking charms to be able to fit the books in her expanded bag.

|}(August 1992){|

By August, she had four people who she considered her friends; people who she’d gladly kill for.

First, there was Mr. Morginnson, despite him being her boss, she still found herself talking with him whenever she was there and laughing and enjoying his company.

Then there was Quill, the manager of the shop _Ingenious Inks_ —they sold quills, inks, parchments, and other supplies needed in day-to-day life. The store was across the street from the bookshop, and he was good friends with Mr. Morginnson. After it would close, he would come talk to the two busy bees in the store.

Frost was interesting, as in, ‘if I piss you off, you’re going to kill me and everyone I love interesting’. She was the best employee at _Simple Solutions_ , a shady business that dealt with the dispatching of someone’s enemies. They were hitmen, and she was the most ruthless of them all. After her missions, she’d come join Quill in chatting with Mr. Morginnson, and always brought fascinating, gruesome tales of her journeys. For some odd reason, she had taken an instant liking to her, and always brought back souvenirs for her. With Frost’s aid and guidance, she quickly became fluent in all forms of torture and murder—theory wise, at least (but, she felt if she were to be in a situation where that knowledge was needed, she would be quite successful).

And finally, was Tom. He was the second youngest of the group—Mr. Morginnson being younger by two days—and perhaps her closest friend. He was a politician, and Lord of two prominent Lordships in Britain. He was easily the smartest, and most confusing man she had ever met.

All in all, she was surrounded by those who she cared for and those who cared about her.

|}(January 1993){|

When she was thirteen, she had found a way to sneak out of the castle undetected and was able to continue her late night explorations, job, learnings, and socializations. She quickly rocketed ahead of her classmates and took top of her year, thanks to Mr. Morginnson, Frost, Quill, and Tom.

* * *

_It developed into a want_

* * *

The May during her third year, she found a potion that replicated the effects of 8 hours of sleep per dosage without causing damage to her body or mind. She quickly figured out how to brew it, and brewed enough to last her throughout the summer holidays when she wouldn’t be able to do so. With this added boost in time, she found more improvement potions and spells, and now had a photographic memory, fast metabolism, and decent balance—she was a walking health hazard before that one.

With the sleeping potion, however, not all was perfect like the other improvements made to her body and mind. While it was correct on the claim that it wouldn’t damage her body or mind, and that they no longer had the need—or want—to sleep, her mind needed to _dream_. It needed that release, that time to relax and solve problems without that pesky little thing called a moral compass getting in the way.

She quickly altered her schedule with Mr. Morginnson—she still had issues calling him Jonas because he was her boss (it didn’t matter that he practically begged her to call her Jonas like their other friends). Instead of working four hours every night, she started to work six hours Monday through Friday, and spent the weekends sleeping.

No one seemed to either notice or care that she slept on the ‘fun’ days.

|}(November 1993){|

One night, in mid-November, after she had finished stocking the shelves of new books that Jonas had ordered—she had bought ten of them—Jonas took her deeper down the Alley and to another part that she had never been to before. He had led her into a store and then proceeded to buy her a trunk with a stupidly insane number of expansion charms, spells, and runes on it that he then had altered into a three story library that was twice the size of the one at Hogwarts.

The books she owned only ended up taking a quarter of the first floor, but, she enjoyed looking at the crystal chandeliers and the towering fifteen foot ceilings and fifteen foot tall bookshelves.

(She would often fall asleep in the large overstuffed armchairs in front of the magical fire with a book on her chest.)

Jonas then led her to _Borgin and Burke’s_ —one of her other favorite shops—and bought her two illegal portkeys; one that would take her to the backroom of the shop, and another to take her back to Hogwarts. One was a plain key with a black chain, and the other was a black banded ring.

When she had asked why he had done that for her, the answers she had received boggled her mind. The trunk was a bonus due to her working for him for over two years, and that the next day—night—she would be receiving a boost in payment to three galleons an hour—she wasn’t ashamed to admit she choked a bit on her tongue. The portkeys were also bonuses, and it would make traveling to and from Hogwarts much easier, along with the added super bonus of the risk of her illegal apparating being discovered taken away completely.

That night—morning—when she arrived back to the school, she chose a small abandoned classroom, that was more of a closet, close to the dungeons to be her return spot. She placed strong repellant charms on the room, along with notice-me-not charms, and booby traps should someone stumble upon it. She then made her way to the common room, where she whispered _labyrinth_ to the wall and slipped inside. She then went to her room and began to read the books that she had bought that day in her new library.

|}(February 1994){|

Between the amount of school work assigned, her job at the bookshop, and the no need for sleep—most of the time—she had been left with an alarming amount of free time. A _stupidly_ alarming amount of free time.

She spent this free time studying up on things that interested her, and other subjects that had she been caught even _thinking_ about—thank you Occlumency—she’d either be grounded for life, or sent to Azkaban—perhaps both, considering who her family was.

During one of her Frantic Study Periods—she would often become obsessed with a topic and would proceed to spend many days, weeks, or even months studying everything she could on the subject (both legal and illegal)—focusing on Transfiguration, she discovered animagi. After a year of constant study and help from her friends—she had no school friends besides Draco Malfoy—she completed the transformation on her fourteenth birthday.

Had she known that Jonas was so scared of Marten’s (in his defense he thought she was a weasel) and that Tom, Quill, and Frost found them to be completely adorable (many cuddles were given) she might have worked a little bit harder.

|}(December 1994){|

During the winter holidays in her fourth year, on the Eve of Yule, she learned she was adopted of some sorts. Her birth mother hadn’t wanted her, and her birth father couldn’t take care of her for some unknown reason, which led to her being forced upon two people who told her they were her parents and that they loved her to her face. Meanwhile, when they thought she was asleep, they would _loudly_ complain about how they hated her and that she was an unwanted burden.

Really, was one child that much of a difference in a family with nine children?

That night, after she snuck back in from a Yuletide ritual—she was the only one in her family who celebrated the pagan holiday (her ‘mother’ was a muggleborn and abhorred the traditions of the Olde Ways and insisted that they celebrate Christmas)—she packed the belongings that she cared about and left.

Her room was almost as full as it was before she departed; the only things that were missing were select clothes—only the pureblood robes—her books, her trunks, and her wand.

* * *

_It evolved into a need_

* * *

Jonas allowed her to sleep in the backroom of the shop for the rest of the break, and even upped her salary—despite her many protests and hexes—to ten galleons an hour so that when she finished her fourth year, she could find a place to live until she had to turn back to school.

He often apologized to her for not having the room to house her during the summers due to his growing family with his new wife. She always informed him that he was grateful for everything he had done for her, and that if he apologized one more time she would hex him.

Even though she returned back to school for the rest of fourth year, no one in her ‘family’ cared that she had gone missing for almost the entirety of the winter holidays.

Had those whom she called her siblings been aware of the lack of blood relation?

|}(1995-1996){|

The summer before her fifth year, she rented a small apartment above _Jasper’s Apothecary_ , and the summer before her sixth year, she rented the small apartment over _Borgin and Burke’s_. She continued working with Jonas, continued her studies, and continued with her sleepless weeks.

Due to her new living situation, she grew closer to her friends, made new ones, and had never felt more at home than she did with them. She no longer had to hide who she was, or what she believed in. She was accepted for who she was, and was loved for it.

|}(December 1996){|

During the winter break in her sixth year, she stayed with Jonas, his wife Margaretta, and their toddler—her godson (how she adored him)—Morkere. On the seventh day of Yule, Jonas, Quill, Frost, and Tom—Margaretta stayed with Morkere—took her to Gringotts to get her inheritance test done by the goblins.

Every night until she returned to school, she stared at the three rings adorning her right hand—especially the one on her forefinger and thumb—and the parchment that finally told her her true name and who her parents were.

Kellen Potter was no more, instead, she was replaced by a girl named for her mother and father.

_Mother: Aethelthryd Aedith Coats_

_Father: Caspian Njord Runar Wolffe_

* * *

_It became her salvation_

* * *

She would never forget her 17th birthday.

That day—technically the day before—had started out with her sneaking out of Hogwarts as soon as she could—the second dinner ended, and going to the bookshop where she spent the night taking care of Morkere so Margaretta could sleep while Jonas stocked the shop. The _actual_ morning of her birthday started with her sneaking out of the apartment as soon as she could to go to Gringotts International to take care of business. She walked in as a half-blood—to the entirety of the world except for seven others—and stepped out one of the most powerful pureblooded women in Europe.

She then returned back to the bookshop to spend the day with her family—the Morginnson’s—and ditch the Hogsmeade trip that her fellow students were taking.

After a celebratory breakfast, the family of four moved down to the bookshop and went about as normal—kind of. Jonas worked on stocking books and helping customers while Margaretta would watch the counter, while she played with Morkere.

Throughout the day, people who knew of her true lineage came to congratulate her. Quill and Frost came almost together and left quickly, Quill because of the shop, and Frost because she had another assignment. Tom came shortly after lunch and stayed, chatting with Jonas and watching her and Morkere play.

She had been running around in her animagus form—which they had taken to calling Murky (she still didn’t know why—she was _ginger_ for crying out loud)—with Morkere toddling after her while others watched on, smiling at the laughing squeals echoing throughout the shop. It was sudden, when the splitting, agonizing, and terrifying pain started in her stomach and spread throughout her small body.

She was laying on the ground and convulsing violently when Tom and Jonas forced her back into her human form. Her quiet, but desperate squeaks turned to earth shattering screams that shook the foundation of the shop while her body spasmed and blood poured out of her nose, ears, eyes, and mouth.

Her red tinged world started to turn dark with the sight of Morkere desperately reaching out to her from his mother’s arms while Jonas lifted her into his own. Her head tilted back and her gaze met a pair of icy blue eyes filled with panic, and then she knew no more.

|}(February 1997){|

She was cursed.

According to the healers who had been called in from Norway—others had been called as well, but, they were the only ones who knew what it was—it was a bloodcurse. It was passed down from her father’s side of the family, and was in all members, but, it only affected the women.

She was the first female to be born on her father’s side in nearly 400 years, and the only reason that she _was_ female was because her mother didn’t take the potions that would guarantee her sex to be male. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful, or angry—betrayed by—with her mother for these actions.

Could that be why her mother didn’t want her? Did she know that she was cursing her daughter by not taking the potions? Was it guilt that led to her being foisted upon those who raised her?

Or…was she _truly_ not…wanted?

By _either_ parent?

She rolled onto her side, and slept.

|}(March 1997){|

“My Lady?”

She looked up from the multitude of school books and met the bright eyes of the medi-witch standing in the doorway. “Yes?” her voice was high, clear, and had a musical tone to it. It was clear to all in the vicinity that with that _single_ word, the young Lady had more knowledge than most in that building.

“You have a visitor, my Lady.”

She turned her head to the professor who inclined his head and sat back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Send them in, please.” The witch nodded and with a deep and clumsy curtsy, left the room. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” she mused to her professor as she turned back to him with her eyebrow raised.

“Yes, I assume it would take quite some time to get used to something like that,” he drawled lazily a smirk tugging gently on his lips. “I am just glad that you deemed me worthy to be informed of your true identity _before_ you became a Lady.”

A smirk tugged at her own lips. “Technically, I was born a Lady.”

“But, you were not raised as a Lady, thus, you were not a Lady until a month ago.”

She stuck her tongue out just as the door opened again. “My Lady Wolffe.”

She turned and inclined her head to the older wizard standing in the doorway. “Mr. Erikson. I was not expecting you today. Has something gone wrong with the Successions?”

The older man shook his head and sat in the newly conjured chair. “No. Everything has gone smoothly. With no one to contest your claim to any of the Lordships, and your vassals being pleased to once more have a Lord—Lady, I apologize—everything is, dare I say it, nearly perfect. Now,” he crossed one leg over the other, and placed his satchel on his lap. “How are you, my Lady?”

She gifted him with a strained smile. “Would you like me to tell you what I tell my professors and visitors, or what I tell the healers?”

“I would prefer to know the truth, my Lady. I cannot very well help run your estates without knowledge of your health.”

“I believe you can, Mr. Erikson,” she said with a saccharinely sweet tone. “You, Mr. Oswine, and Mr. Jacobs are all very capable men.”

He bowed his head, a faint pink dusting his wizened cheeks. “Please, call me Linus, my Lady.” He cleared his throat before once more making eye contact with her. “And, when _all_ of your vassal’s are writing to us to ask after your health, and then _re_ writing us demanding more information when they get none, we cannot run your Estates in an efficient manner.”

She sighed before looking at the professor who was _clearly_ going to spell himself to that overstuffed chair before he allowed himself to be removed from the room. His eyebrow rose and she scowled at him before speaking.

“I am in a lot of pain. I am currently taking a strong pain potion that really does nothing more than take the edge off. I struggle to write and move my hands; I am incapable of walking, and it feels as if my blood is on fire. It is slowly getting worse, every day.” Her eyes lifted to meet the saddened gaze of her Estate Manager.

“Have they figured out what it is?”

With another glance to the stubborn professor, she nodded her head. “Yes. It is a bloodcurse, passed down through the Wolffe line.”

“Is there a solution?”

She snorted and broke the illusion of a pureblood Lady. “Yes, although, I likely won’t ever find it before the curse kills me and finishes the line off completely.”

“Dare I ask what the solution is?”

She looked down at her thin fingers. “I have to find my soulmate.”

Linus rose a brow, and an unwilling smirk tugged at his lips. “Is that all?”

Laughter bubbled out of her own lips. “Yes, that’s all.” The three started laughing—none of it from humor. “It’s quite simple, is it not? I mean, I should have no trouble finding him, what with the feeling like I’m walking on shards of poison-laced glass with every step I take.” She had long since stopped laughing, and bordered on hysterical tears.

The laughter of the two men quickly died down as what she said registered. They sat in silence. “Was there anything else?” the professor asked from his spot next to her bed. “Or can we get back to her lessons?”

Linus lifted his chin and his right brow rose. “And you are?” _Mordred_ ; he was the _epitome_ of snooty pureblood—even though her family’s Homeland didn’t have opinions with blood purity.

“Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he drawled out, another lazy smirk tugged at his lips when Linus’ eyes widened.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” he oozed. “I’ve read all of your research, all of your papers, and treatises. Perhaps, later we could correspond and discuss your findings—but—now, I actually _am_ here on business.” He tore his eyes away from the famous Potions Master, and reached into the leather document bag that rested on his lap, and pulled out a thick envelope. “This is from your father. He asked for it to be delivered to you’re a week after your birthday, but, with everything going on with your health, this is the first chance that I have had to be able to get it to you.”

She took the luxurious parchment from his hands and held it in her own, her pureblood mask falling back into place as she did so. “Thank you, Linus. I truly appreciate it.”

He inclined his head, a smile pulling at his lips. “I hope you feel better, and I hope you find your soulmate in time.”

She smiled at him, a tightness in her face that should never be there on one so young as she. “As do I, Linus. I will read it later.”

The man nodded his head and stood. “Of course, my Lady. I will leave you to your studies.

|}(March 1997){|

_To Akelda Aethelthryd Runa Wolffe_

_My Dearest Akelda,_

_How I with that I were there with your now. How I wish I could have held you in my arms for more than the one microscopically short year that I had with you._

_I wish I were able to explain face to face with you as to why you were given to those who raised you—I can only pray to the gods that you were raised right and that you were loved. But, as I am on my death bed, I cannot explain while looking into your lovely violet eyes, and stroking your soft black hair. I must try to convene why it was done using only this impersonal ink, quill, and parchment._

_The first thing you absolutely need to know, is that I love you so very, **very** much, my darling Kel. Giving you away was the hardest thing that I have ever had to do, and I have had to do many hard and questionable things in my life before. The second thing that you must know, is that I sent you away to protect you, and I will pray until my dying breath to the gods that it worked._

_Thousands of years ago, my—our—ancestor was cursed. I am unaware of the exact name, wording and effect of the curse; all I know is that it affects the women born of the Wolffe line negatively. The curse forces the woman to find her soulmate and Bond with him/her completely before the curse kills her._

_As far as I know, only three women in our family have successfully found their mates, and only one woman was not affected by the curse. She grew up away from our Homeland, lived in England, married and lived a happy life. There are speculations to her legitimacy to the line of Wolffe, but, I had to take the chance with you, my darling girl. I need to keep you safe, and if that means sending you away from the Homeland—away from me—then that is what I shall do, no matter how much it kills me inside._

_I hope as you are reading this letter, you are in school—did you attend Hogwarts?—and confused as to why I am telling you about this curse that you have no sign of—I pray for this._

_But, if by some horrifying nightmare come to life, and that you have been affected by this curse, then there are no amount of words in the world that could describe how **sorry**_ _I am, my little baby girl. I wish I could turn back time and raise you myself, and that we’d have a little more time together before you were sent away upon my death—as of my writing this, you will be six in a few days’ time._

_I hope you can forgive me if you are indeed afflicted with this curse, as it was I who gave into your mother’s begging’s and did not force her to take the potions required. But, I will **never** regret having you, my darling **daughter**._

_I love you, my Akelda._

_With love from your father,_

_Caspian Njord Runar Wolffe_

_Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Wolffe_

She dashed away the tears as they dripped down her face and shuffled the parchments to look at the second letter that had been added. The writing on the parchment was shaky, hasty, and written in the same hand as the previous.

_My Akelda,_

_If you are truly afflicted with The Bloodcurse, there is a spell. It is dark, and it is unholy, but it can save your life._

Corruptela Anima Mae _._

_The Attraction of the Soul spell, also known as the Soul Seduction Curse. All it does is call your soulmate, no matter where they are, and they will come to you. It won’t be like apparating—where they are there instantly—but it will be like a gentle pull—so I hear._

_Please, my darling. Save yourself if I have not been strong enough to save you myself._

|}(September 1997){|

Akelda was going to _kill_ —rip maim tear shred _punish_ —whoever let the state of her health, the cause, and the _solution_ , known to the press.

“Jonas?”

“Yes, Kelly?”

“Can you bury me in books? I would be happy to die that way…. I think I would honestly _prefer_ to die that ay rather than having to observe this obscene… _show_ that the public seems intent on displaying.”

Jonas was silent as he thought over her request. “I have a new shipment in on dismemberment charms that was requested by Douglas…would those suffice? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if there was a little bit of blood on them.”

Morkere giggled from his place in her lap. He tugged harshly on her hair and giggled once more at the pain that flashed across her face—a sadist in the making (may the gods have mercy on the world).

“That would be absolutely wonderful, thank you.”

“My Lady?”

She deserved some kind of award for withholding the urge to hex the medi-witch’s spine to exit her body through her annoyingly bright eyes. Did they give Order of Merlin’s out for that kind of thing…?

If so, she deserved one.

“Yes?”

“You have another visitor.”

 _Die a thousand deaths_.

“Who is it?”

“I believe it is one of your vassals,” she responded, ignorant to the thought’s crossing the teen’s mind.

She looked up to the ceiling and silently prayed to Morgana, Mordred and the Olde gods for strength. “Send them in.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Akelda tilted her head to the side and looked at Jonas. “Thanks for being here,” she said after a moment.

He smiled softly at her and reached out and stroked her cheek. “Of course, you know you’re like a sister to me.” He stood and took the four year old from her arms and placed him on his lap; both cooed at the disgruntled expression on his chubby little face. The furrowed brows faded as Jonas ran his fingers along his sides.

She smiled softly at the two males and opened her mouth to speak, but was forced to stop as a wave of agony shot through her. Her head tilted back and her mouth opened in a silent scream as her back arched off of the bed.

Having learnt from times past, Jonas did not reach for her, but instead ran to the doorway and called for a Healer. Morkere was crying softly in his father’s arms, not knowing what was going on with his ‘Aunie Kella’.

A high pitched moan of pain left her throat as hands pushed her down into the bed and shoved a bitter potion down her throat.

|}(September 1997){|

“Is now a bad time, my Lady Coats?”

The cultured voice reached through the potion-induced state of peace she was currently in. She tilted her head to the side and shook it with a kind smile. “No, please, come in, Heir Draco, Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy.” The three blondes quickly stepped into the room and took their seats in the chairs that had been conjured for them once they entered. “Might I ask why you’re here?” she asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

She knew without a doubt that the three had witnessed the episode of pain mere minutes before.

“Forgive us, my Lady Wolffe,” Lord Malfoy started after taking a peek at her finger, “we heard about your condition and wanted to see if there was anything we could do to aid you in either your recovery or your comfort.”

At least they weren’t outright insisting that they test if one of them is her soulmate—unlike some of her other vassals. It probably helped that the four were…close, before she took over the Lordships.

She smiled gently at the three. “You are very sweet. I am as comfortable as can be expected. They are doing all that they can to help me. Is there anything that I can do for you?”

The three blondes drew back in shock. “Pardon?”

“Is there something that I can help you with? I know I can’t do much, but, my Estate Managers are very capable and are able to do most things that I am not capable of doing myself.” When they continued to just stare at her with owlish eyes, she probed a little further. “Is there something the matter with your own vassals?”

Lady Malfoy was able to snap out of her stupor first. “Not at all, my Lady Wolffe, our vassals are fine. We were just shocked by your offer of aid.”

That’s right.

They hadn’t had a Lord in over 10 years…they’ve had to do everything on their own—in fact, the current Lord Malfoy had never _had_ a Lord, as the prior died 10 years ago.

“As your Lady, it is my job to make sure my vassals are happy and safe, just as it is your job to do the same for your own vassals.”

“Of course, my Lady, we apologize.”

She waved her hand as she shook her head. “Trouble yourself no longer, Lord Malfoy. Please.” She was silent for a moment. “Even if I wasn’t your Lady, I would still offer my help to my friends.”

|}(January 1998){|

“I am amazing!” Margaretta announced as she walked into the room. “I was _finally_ able to track down more information on that spell your father wrote to you about,” she explained. Morkere was on her tail, his small hand holding tightly to his mothers. She bent down and pressed a kiss to her adopted sister-in-law’s cheek before she sat down and pulled her son onto her lap. The five year old prodded at his mother’s heavily distended stomach—she was due any day now.

“What did you find?” Morkere climbed into Akelda’s lap and forced her to start running her fingers through his downy dark blonde locks.

“Unlike the name suggests, it doesn’t force your soulmate to love you, all it does is…what’s the word…compel is the only word I can think of at the moment—stupid pregnancy brain,” she muttered the last part under her breath, but was still heard, and the two women laughed together.

“So, what does the spell actually do?”

“All it does is compel your soulmate to come find you. They have the choice to do so or not.”

She inclined her head and clenched the sheets as pain roved over her body like a long lost lovers touch. “Thanks Margie,” she gasped through the pain.

When would it all end?

When would the gods finally take pity on her?

She was so _tired_.

|}(May 1998){|

“Are you going back to take your NEWTs?”

Akelda stared at the ornate tiled ceiling and shook her head. “No. They’re allowing me to take them here. The Healer’s say I’m not up to returning to the school to do it.” The room was silent. “Mordred, I _hate_ being here. I just want to go home.”

“So, why don’t you go?”

Her gaze slid to the brunette sitting next to her. “They say that travel will just make everything worse.”

“Even back to where you were staying before all of this happened?”

She scoffed. “I had been living at Hogwarts. My rent at Borgin’s place expired just before school started. During Yule I lived with the Morginnson’s.” She shook her head and sighed. “I guess home for me now is the Wolffe Ancestral Home in Norway.”

“Why not the Coats Ancestral Home?”

“That’s in Wales.” Both were away that while much closer than Norway, it was still farther than she could probably handle.

“Surely there’s somewhere in England that you can stay.”

His Estates were too far as well, along with the Ancestral Home of her third Estate.

“The Wolffe family has an Estate—I think it’s a summer home—in Coventry.” She paused. “Now that I think about it, so do the Coats. Perhaps that’s where my parents met.” A soft groan of pain left her throat.

Tom reached out and gently stroked her hair and quickly pulled away with a wince when her mouth fell open in pain. “I apologize,” he whispered, clearly in a different type of pain.

“Don’t be. No one can touch me anymore.”

“What about your godchildren?”

They were the last to be able to touch her without causing extreme pain.

She shook her head. “Not even them.”

The two adults ignored the burning tears that streaked down her face, and into her hairline before they wet the pillow beneath her head.

|}(November 1999){|

“Have you gotten the results back yet?” Jonas asked the Healer as he leaned over Akelda’s sleeping form.

That was all she did lately.

“Yes,” the woman responded slowly.

“Well? What are they?” His Dark magic swirled around him in an angry haze.

“We believe she has a year at most. And that’s only if she ceases with this foolish notion of going to Coventry.”

“She just wants to be comfortable.”

“And she is comfortable. Here. We can’t guarantee her comfort in Coventry.”

Jonas shook his head, his long hair falling into his face as his shoulders slumped. “You don’t understand, do you?” his voice was full of pity.

“Understand what?”

“She’s nineteen, nearing twenty. She should be in the prime of her life, looking for someone to give her her three Heirs. Instead, for the last two and a half years, she’s been confined to a hospital bed, forced to follow the whims of others—something she had never done before this whole _thing_ —and bide her time, just waiting to die. She wants to spend what she has left in her life somewhere where she can call home—something she hasn’t had in a very long time.”

“But—”

“You can’t do anything more, can you?”

The Healer hesitated. “We can continue to give her the pain potions developed for her by Master Snape, but, that seems to be it.”

“And even then they don’t help much. _Don’t_ —fight me on this. You _know_ they don’t help. Allow her to spend time at her home—allow her to _find_ a home. I’m sure she can find someone who can come pick up the potions as needed. Allow her this last freedom—her dying wish.”

The woman sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Very well. She can go to Coventry. But—I require that a medi-witch be there with her, and that she will allow me to come check on her weekly.”

Jonas risked a now-rare smile. “I believe she will allow that.

|}(December 1999){|

“I haven’t been here since your grandfather was Lord Wolffe,” Linus reminisced as he stepped into her bedroom with a seven year old Morkere following like a diligent knight in shining armor. His siblings, Season, Amaryllis, and Canyon toddling along diligently behind him.

She smiled at the Wolffe Estate manager and her four godchildren. “I have to admit that I haven’t seen much of it in the two weeks that we’ve been here, but, from what I’ve seen, it is quite magnificent.”

Linus inclined his head as he sat in his chair closest to the head of the bed—it was his designated spot and would be until the end of time (or until she had three children—whichever came first). “The other two will be in shortly, your friend, Jonas, stopped them.”

Akelda laughed softly. “That does not surprise me. He has never met them before, and, ever since we moved to Coventry, he has made it his personal goal to screen everyone before they come visit me.”

“You have good people surrounding you, my Lady.”

She bowed her head slightly. “That I do.”

The heavy oak doors opened once more, and Eastmund Oswine, and Avis Jacobs stepped through the door, followed by a scowling Jonas.

“You seem to be doing much better, my Lady,” Eastmund observed as he sat in an ornate wooden chair on the left side of her bed, next to Linus. Avis sat next to him and agreed with his sentiment.

“Yes, well, it is quite amazing what a small change of scenery will do. Have you brought the documents I asked for?”

The fake, cheerful air soured quickly. “Yes, my Lady,” they all answered at once—she used to think they practiced (she now knew they didn’t).

“Good. Jonas—” she started, only to be cut off by the man.

“I understand. Kids, let’s go make Auntie Kella some lunch.” The triplets squealed and quickly left the room, but Morkere stared at Akelda as he refused to move.

“Go on, Morkere, I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

“Promise?”

She gave a sad smile and nodded her head. “Go on.”

The four adults were soon left alone. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I don’t have time to sit around and hope that my soulmate will somehow walk through that door. I need to do this. I need an heir for when I’m gone. I refuse to let any of the Estates fall to ruin and extinction because I didn’t think ahead and plan for my premature death.

“It’s just—he has no training!” Linus whined.

“I had no ‘official’ training until I was sixteen and did the inheritance test. He’s helped me for almost half of my life. He’s more family to me than any of those…things who raised me. He _will_ be my heir for when I die, whether that is in a few days, or a year.”

The three men nodded, thoroughly chastised by the powerful woman dwarfed in the bed in front of them. They each handed over the contracts she had them draw up with her law-wizard. After she read through each, checking the notes from the wizard along with them, she signed them all and leaned against the mountain of pillows hugging her back. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

“Of course, my Lady.”

The four sat in silence for a short while. “My Lady,” Linus started after nudges from the other two men.

“Yes?”

“We took the liberty of drawing up a fourth contract, with your law-wizard. Now, before you complain, let me explain. These contracts are binding, even in the event that you _do_ live and have your own children, he will remain the heir for _all_ three titles and Estates. This fourth contract will negate the first three and allow whatever children you have to take over your Lordships upon your death.”

She held out her hand, and after reading over the document and notes, she nodded her head and signed it.

“Thank you, my Lady.”

The three men stood and when they were at the door, she stopped them. “Gentlemen, thank you. Truly, thank you.”

|}(July 2001){|

His words slowly pierced through the potion-induced sleep she was in. “Please, Akelda. Wake up.”

Her eyes flicked open for a moment before they slid closed once more. “Jonas?”

“Thank Morgana, and Mordred, _you’re alive_ ,” he breathed. The bed shifted as he climbed onto it and next to her. She felt the painful warmth of his hand as it hovered an inch above the skin of her cheek.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been asleep for almost a week.” Her eyes flickered open before closing once more.

“Oh.”

“Please, Akelda. You _need_ to cast the spell.”

She shook her head—it barely twitched—before speaking. “I can’t.”

“You _have_ to do this.”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything. I can’t. I—I just—”

“You’ve never had a problem with Dark magic before,” Jonas stated, confusion clear in the darkness.

“It’s not the magic being Dark that I’m having issues with,” she slurred, “it’s the taking away their free will. I mean—what if he—what if he’s already married and happy? With a family?” her voice grew thick with tears and not for the first time, they both wished that he could hold her close and wipe them away.

Jonas sighed and looked down at the girl lying next to him in the dark of the night. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for those who depend on you.”

She scoffed. “No one depends on me, Jonas. I’m weak. _I’m_ the one being forced to depend on others. For the first time in my life, it’s _me_.” Boiling tears escaped the confines of her eyes.

“Liar!” he snarled, the harsh sound caused her to flinch. “Morkere depends on you. Season depends on you. Amaryllis depends on you. Canyon depends on you—they’re your _godchildren_ and they depend on you. Your vassals depend on you. _I depend on you_!” His voice was thick with anguish and he paused to take a breath.

“You have _hundreds_ of people who depend on you, Akelda. If you won’t cast the spell for yourself, so _you_ can live, do it for those who depend you to protect them. Do it for those who love you. _Please_ , Akelda, do it for us—your family…” he trailed off and a tear made of poison and corrosive death landed on her cheek and sent a flare of fiendfyre throughout her very soul. “I can’t lose you too.”

She closed her eyes, and together they mourned the loss of Margaretta who had died in childbirth a few years prior.

 _It gives them the option to come and find you_.

Akelda thought of the four documents and three heirship rings sitting in one of the most secure vaults in the world, in a box with some of the strongest enchantments that money could buy.

She brushed the exposed pad of her thumb along the ring on her pointer finger that marked her Lady Wolffe. She thought of the fifteen vassals that the Wolffe Estate had, and how each of those vassals had at least four of their own. She thought of the seven vassals that the Coats Estate had, and how each of those had at least three of their own—the Malfoy’s having five. She thought of the three lone vassals belonging to her smallest Estate, and squeezed her eyes against the acidic burn in the back of her nose.

She thought of her family, of Quill, Frost, Tom—

“Fine. You win. I’ll do it.”

|}(November 2001){|

“I want to go outside.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.”

“It may not be wise, but, I’m going to do it anyway,” she grinned.

Jonas crossed his arms over his broad chest and lifted a brow. “How are you going to get there?”

“You, my good sir, are going to use your manly book-strength to move me into the Rose Gardens. Wait! The center of the Hedge Maze has a lovely fountain and sitting area. We could have a picnic there.”

He sighed. “You’re not going to let this drop, are you?”

Akelda grinned once more. “Nope! Come on, Jo! I haven’t been outside since we moved here nearly two _years_ ago. Please!” She pouted and had to desperately fight the grin that wanted take over her lips when the children joined in on the pleading.

“Fine! Alright, you mangy pests. We’ll go outside.”

“Yay!”

“You know,” Jonas started as he moved the blankets that covered her lap and the letters to the side, “for a 21 year old woman, you are quite childish for your age.”

She beamed at the man. “I blame it _entirely_ on my ancestors.”

Jonas hid a snort before he shook his head and rolled his eyes fondly. “Shift into Murky, then I’ll move you outside.”

Akelda did as she was told and hid back the screams—squeaks—of pain that wanted to escape as she did so. They had found out early on after moving to Coventry that when she was in her animagus form she could be ‘handled’ more efficiently—basically less pain. This far into the curse—they weren’t sure if any of her ancestors had lived as long as she had (she was the only person currently living affected by the curse—and the first one where it was actually being documented)—even the slightest brush of foreign magic was agonizing to bear. She had been spending more and more time in her animagus form as Morkere started having more bouts of accidental magic—the only time she wasn’t in it now was when she was either eating or working (she cursed the fast metabolism she had given herself).

His tutors and school room were in the basement filled with heavy wards to prevent magic from making its way up to the fifth floor where she resided in the Master bedroom. The attic was also surrounded by wards to prevent any magic from rare artifacts—why they were kept there and not the main Estate was a mystery to all—leaching down from the ceiling and into the room.

For three months after she had cast the spell, she had to be moved to the second floor and Morkere’s school room had to be moved to an entirely different location—the apartment above the bookshop is where they decided on.

It had been four months since she had cast the spell and almost everything had gone back to normal. She had been moved back to the fifth floor, and the lessons resumed in the basement, she stopped taking the pain potions, and she took a more active role in her Estates. She now did everything that didn’t require her presence directly—she left those to her managers, or had those who absolutely needed her presence come to the Wolffe Summer home (it was very rare that a Wolffe vassal chose this option).

The main difference since she cast the spell, is that other than being able to shift into her animagus form, she could no longer cast magic of her own. She could still feel it pulsing under her skin, felt the warmth in her Core, and could still use her blood to open the most private of letters. She just couldn’t access it.

The Soul Seduction Curse had nearly killed her, and in order to protect her, her magic locked most of itself away. She often found herself wishing—along with those closest to her—that she hadn’t cast the spell at all.

|}(September 2002){|

Akelda looked up from the letter she was writing and stared at her godchildren as they played in the large fountain. Her youngest goddaughter, Amaryllis was splashing her sister, Season, while the last of the triplets, their brother Canyon, snuck up behind her.

Morkere was climbing on the large statue of the wolf that had water pouring out of its eyes, and wounds on its sides. It was quite gruesome, but she liked it, and her godchildren liked it, so it stayed. He was currently half way up one of the legs, and was desperately trying to make it to the wolf’s back.

She turned her gaze to Canyon when he cackled madly and watched him push Amaryllis into the water. Pride flooded her as Morkere immediately gave up his quest of climbing and jumped into the water and pulled his sister out of the water, checked her over, and pat her back as she coughed.

“Canyon,” Akelda started out softly, ignoring the giggles of her medi-witch, Sarah, and the grumbles of the children’s governess, Illverness, both of whom were sitting in chars behind her. “What do you say to your sister?”

The five year old scowled before muttering an apology that sounded less than sincere. Before any of the three women could berate him, however, Amaryllis pushed him into the water after forgiving him. Akelda tilted her head to the side and whispered to the two women behind her. “Should I reward that, or punish that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, my Lady,” Sarah said between giggles.

“Punishment,” Illverness demanded.

Before Akelda could respond, a soft pop sounded in the maze next to her. She turned her head and gazed at the house elf with her head tilted slightly as it entered the center. “More letters for mistress.” The letters were placed on the side table next to the large, overstuffed chair she was sitting in—it was honestly more like a bed that she could sit up in.

“Thank you, Monsey.”

The elf bowed and quickly left.

“Amaryllis,” Illverness started in a shrill tone.

“You need to apologize to your brother,” Akelda cut in as she grabbed the stack of letters and started to sort them. “And, if that happens again,” she didn’t look up from the letters but knew she had the child’s full attention, “you will be punished accordingly. This is your only warning.” She looked up through her lashes to see her goddaughter thoroughly chastised.

“Yes, Auntie Kella,” the girl responded. She turned to her younger brother. “I’m sorry, Canyon.”

She looked to her, and after she nodded, returned to playing with her siblings. She returned her gaze to the letters in her hands and continued to run her Estates, and continued to ignore the familiar and constant pain that pulsed through her veins.

Sometime later, she was interrupted by a sweet voice. “Auntie Kella?”

She looked up from the thick missive she was reading and smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners as her face lit up. “Yes, Morkere?”

“Can we have lunch now?”

She smiled once more and nodded her head. “Monsey, will you bring us lunch?”

“Right away, mistress.”

Lunch was quickly served by five house elves and the group sat down and ate at the table only a few feet to the left of her chair.

Akelda fell asleep shortly after lunch was finished with a smile on her face as she watched her family play.

She didn’t think it could get much better than this.

|}(February 2003){|

“Happy birthday!” Frost squealed as she ran into the room.

Akelda gave a weak smile and nodded her head in thanks. For someone who was nearing forty, Frost was extremely childish.

“Is today another bad day?” Quill asked as he walked in behind her. She was convinced that the two were secretly dating.

“Yeah.”

Jonas closed the door after he entered, the children on a trip with Illverness, leaving the adults to have time alone—something that they hadn’t had in a very long time. She closed her eyes and listened to three of her dearest friends talk and joke around, joining in when she could.

It was only after they had left, and she was on the cusp of sleep, that she realized that Tom didn’t show.

And for some reason, that seemed to hurt more than anything else.

|}(May 2003){|

“My Lady?”

Akelda flinched and lifted her eyes to meet the eyes of Mable her maid/housekeeper. She was hired after the house elves magic became too much. They still lived there and worked there, they just weren’t allowed to come near her unless she herself summoned one of them.

“Yes?”

“You have a visitor, my Lady.”

She looked around and saw her godchildren basking along the edge of the fountain, either fast asleep or quickly approaching that state. “I assume it is someone important.”

Mable flinched at the icy tone. “Yes, my Lady. I tried to send him away, but, well…he was very insistent…he refused to listen and threatened to use magic to find you if I didn’t cooperate. He’s waiting in the receiving room.”

“Has Jonas returned yet?”

“No, he has not, my Lady.”

She rubbed her forehead and stared down at the letters on her lap. She moved them to the side table and sighed. “Bring the man here.”

The young witch curtsied. “Yes, my Lady.” She quickly walked away and out of sight. She turned her gaze to the children who were either still sleeping or looking at her.

“Illverness.”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Take the children inside.”

“Would you like any of their lessons to be worked on?”

“If you feel it is necessary.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Once alone, she closed her eyes as silence once more reigned upon the center of the maze, and wondered who could be so important and/or terrifying that Mable would disobey such a direct order that she had been given to her.

She took a deep breath and dozed off slightly, basking in the gentle heat of the mid-spring sun.

“My Lady?” Mable whispered.

“Yes?” Akelda tilted her head to the side and lazily opened her eyes.

“Lord Slytherin-Gaunt, Minister of Magic, Tom Riddle to see you, ma’am.”

She jerked up slightly, crying out softly at the fire that caressed her blood as she did so. “Please, my Lady Wolffe, I don’t wish to inconvenience you.”

She looked up and met a pair of familiar ice blue eyes and smiled as her heart thumped. She took in his tall, lean frame before speaking. “Monsey.” She tightened her grip on the armchair in preparation for the house elf.

“Mistress calls?”

“Bring a chair for the Minister.” She fought the urge to giggle as he glared playfully at her.

 _Oh yes, my dear, we’re doing_ that _today._

“Yes, mistress.”

“Sarah, you are dismissed.”

“But—my Lady—”

“Now, Sarah.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“I’d offer you my hand,” she stared once they were alone once more and he was sitting, “but, I fear I cannot due to my illness.”

He smiled charmingly as he fell into the game they played whenever they spoke—it was habit from when he took her under his wing. “That is fine, my Lady.” He crossed a leg over the other and rested his clasped hands on his knee. “Might I ask how you are doing, my Lady? It has been quite some time since we’ve spoken.”

Akelda smiled softly at him. “It has, has it not? It’s been about a year, if memory serves correctly. And, I thank you, my Lord. I am as well as can be expected. The sun helps, and I have lived long passed the time that the Healer’s predicted that I would, so, I cannot complain with my current lot in life. Might I ask why you have decided to grace me with your presence?” She knew she was laying it on thick, but the twitches in his expression were too entertaining to stop. She also knew the way she had worded her question was an accusation.

He shifted as a slightly uncomfortable look crossed his face—he knew it was one too. “To be honest, my Lady, I am not entirely sure. All I know is that for quite some time now, I have had a very strong desire to see you. Today was the only day that I could clear to do so. I hope it isn’t an inconvenience.”

Her heart stopped. “Is that so?” She tightened her grip on the armrest, and the Wolffe Lordship ring started to glow faintly as it prepared the subtle magic to protect her. It was overreacting, but, it was also the only magic that didn’t threaten to tear her to pieces—she suspected that it had been forged that way in case a woman became the Head of the House of Wolffe (or in case a daughter was born)—so she welcomed the feel of it washing over her skin.

“Yes. Do I make you nervous, my Lady?” he asked with a pointed glance to her ring. She knew him well enough that he was insulted by the mere thought.

. “No, my Lord. Only slightly…apprehensive.” Was this the longest the game had gone on? It might be.

His perfect, white teeth flashed as he smiled. “I believe that those two words mean the same thing, my Lady.” Akelda flushed delicately and turned her head slightly to the left, the blush deepening as he laughed. “Might I ask why you are _slightly apprehensive_? Should I be insulted?”

 _Am I justified in being insulted_ , is what he really meant.

“No!” The ring flashed brightly and coated her body in a thin sheen of purple that was identical to the shade of her eyes when her heart thumped painfully in her chest. “Well…you see…” she trailed off and pulled her hand into her lap.

She ran the fingers of her opposite hand along the ring that went from the base of her nail on her pointer finger, down to a connecting ring that went to the first knuckle on her thumb; the two parts connected in a dull point between the two fingers, leaving only the pads of the two fingers shown. The metal moved with her fingers as if it were just cloth instead, charmed to not get caught on anything as well.

“It’s hard to explain.”

The ring flashed once more and heated slightly. “Stop that!” she hissed at it. “I’m not in danger!” It flashed again, the purple sheen intensifying slightly before fading, the dark pewter glowing a vibrant violet. “Stop sulking.” The purple faded only slightly, before the metal heated up once more and returned to the purple hue that matched her eyes. “You, sir, are being _far_ too protective.”

She was pulled out of the half-conversation with the sentient object at the sound of beautiful and deep laughter. “That is quite some ring that you have. It’s the Wolffe ring, is it not? I’ve heard that it is the Lord of Lordship Rings.” She had forgotten—merely shoved the information to the back of her mind palace—that he hadn’t seen the Lordship ring—only the Heir ring (they looked nearly identical)—in ‘action’ before.

She flushed and picked at the violet metal with her left thumb. “Yes, it’s the Wolffe Ring, and, I wouldn’t say that it’s the ‘Lord’ of Rings. It’s just…chock full of magic from thousands of years and hundreds of owners.

“Yes, I can see that. Is it true that it can protect from the death curse?”

_No, Tom, you know that, too._

She couldn’t help but laugh, and her eyes lit up with the first genuine laughter she’s had in some time. “No, it cannot, my Lord. It can protect from the other Unforgiveable’s though, and most other spells or individuals who would do me harm.”

“And…people that make you _slightly apprehensive_?” he teased softly.

She was torn between whacking him with a letter, or hiding her face. The blush on her skin however, quickly made the decision for her. “Tom Riddle!” she hissed playfully while smacking him with a letter.

He laughed and stole the offending piece of parchment before he smoothed it out and placed it on the table. Their eyes met, and she felt as if she would drown. “Why do I make you nervous, my Lady?”

_Why after all this time, after all of these years?_

Akelda smiled and rolled her eyes. She was done with the game. “Please, my Lord, I feel we are far closer than ‘my Lady’ and ‘my Lord’.” He lifted his eyebrow and forced her to finish the game fully. She hit him with another letter. “Please call me Akelda. Or Lady Akelda if that suits you better.”

He inclined his head as a smirk tugged at his lips. “You may continue to call me ‘my Lord’.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and raised her hand to hit him with another letter—the poor things—when she saw the glint in his eyes. “Menace,” she hissed before she dropped the letter onto his lap. He responded with a flirtatious wink and sexy smile that had her heart stuttering and her ring flaring up once more, brighter than before. Knowledge filled his eyes, and _somehow_ the grin got more provocative. “Both of you are absolute menaces,” she sniffed, pretending to look away, but continued to stare at him from the corner of her eyes.

“We live to serve,” he said with an incline of his head and an odd glint in his eyes. “Now, your answer, Kel. I don’t like repeating myself, as you know, and you’ve made me ask that question several times already.”

She sighed and looked down at her fingers. “I’m sorry, Tom.” She took a deep breath and adverted her gaze to the fountain in front of her, the man on her right just a blur in her peripheries.

“Kel?”

“When I was seventeen, I received two letters from my birth father, one of which I told you about. As you know, the first letter described why he sent me away to live with the _Potter’s_ —” she sneered the name “—and about the bloodcurse. The second letter, only two other people knew about—knew its contents. It detailed and taught about a spell that had the _ability_ to save me.” She took another deep breath. “About 8 months ago, I finally cast the spell. It had many consequences that we were not prepared for, which is why you can’t use magic, and why Mable is in my employ.”

“Why did you wait over five years to cast the spell, Kel?” The worried anger in his voice was familiar and somewhat comforting, and she spared him a glance before she returned her gaze to the fountain.

“It was— _is_ questionable. I was having issues coming to terms with it. I was convinced that it would take away the freewill of my soulmate, even though all of the research said it wouldn’t. I was—I was afraid, Tom.”

“Why did you cast it if you were afraid?”

She finally looked at him head on and noted the intense look in his eyes. “I am the Lady of one of the most powerful, if not _the_ most powerful Lordships in Eastern Europe. I am also the Lady of another powerful House here in Britain, and a lesser house Seated here in England.

“I have 25 direct vassals, and 22 all have their own vassals. All in all, I am Lady to 112 families, spread all throughout Europe, Asia, and Eurasia. I have _hundreds_ of people depending on me to live, and, on top of that, I have four godchildren also depending on me, a man whom I see as a brother, and three of the best friends anyone could ask for,” she trailed off and shrugged delicately.

“Up until then, I had left almost everything to my Estate managers, and my law-wizards, and I only handled things that were required for me to handle. Up until then…up until Jonas practically beat me bloody with logic…I thought no one depended on me— _needed_ me.

“I had to take the chance—if not for myself, then for my family and those who needed me.”

“And this…spell—what does it do?”

“It calls to my soulmate, encourages them to come to me. They have the option to ignore it though.” She looked away from his intense gaze and to her fingers; she stared at the pulsing purple of the Wolffe Ring, the oscillating reds of the Coats Ring, and the gentle swaying green of the Selwyn Ring.

Long spindly fingers that she knew could play the most complicated piano pieces rested on the armrest, palm up. As she looked close, she saw delicate trembles in the usually steady fingers. “If I may, Kel?” he asked softly.

She took a deep breath and reached out a shaking hand, the pad of her pointer finger brushed against his soft skin, and she finally knew no pain once more as darkness surrounded her.

|}(May 2003){|

Warmth enveloped her hand as she slowly awoke from a dreamless sleep. Her eyes flickered open and her lips spread into a soft smile when her eyes landed on Tom. He was reading a large book by a small white light that hovered above his head in the darkened room. The thumb of his right hand gently stroked the back of her right hand, and his brow was furrowed slightly in concentration.

How many times had they spent time like this when they were younger, just reading in companionable silence, sharing knowledge and the warm presence of each other as they snuggled on too small chairs? It had never mattered to her that even though he was one of her youngest friends, he was still ten years older than her—even when she was 12 it didn’t matter.

Perhaps her soul always knew, and always recognized him.

“Tom,” she spoke softly, her high, clear voice tinged with sleep. His blue eyes flickered to hers and crinkled slightly when he smiled. He waved his hand and the book disappeared and the candles on the walls lit themselves, He stood from his chair at her bedside and sat on the edge of her bed, his hand moving to brush pitch black hair off of her forehead. “You know, I haven’t been able to be around magic in over a two years,” she whispered as he whispered his warm hand against her cheek. He smirked and waved his hand and an ornate tea tray appeared, floating in the air next to them. “It’s so surreal to see you use it so casually, and not have it hurt. I keep expecting the familiar pain to flare.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. How had she not realized how much she missed—needed—his casual touches? “I’m glad to see you are doing better,” he whispered softly, his warm breath brushed gently across her skin. He wrapped his arm around her back and helped her sit up. After he made sure that she was comfortable, he poured them both tea. “Do you still take it the same?”

“Yes—”

“One sugar, a bit of honey, and a dash of cream,” they recited together. Both laughed softly.

He quickly prepared her tea with practiced ease and handed it to her before he prepared his own—three sugars and a dash of milk. “Do you like it?” he asked after she took a sip.

Her mouth tingled with the flavor and she smiled. “I do, what is it?”

He took his own sip and smiled back at her. “Silver Moonlight Wild White Tea.”

A huff of laughter left her mouth as she smiled at him over her teacup. “That is quite the name, isn’t it?”

He laughed and stroked her face when a flash of pain flared through her body and the pain was chased away by his gentle touch. “It is,” he said softly as he stared into her violet eyes, “it has many health benefits, and, I like the flavor.”

“I like it too,” she whispered before she took another sip. The two drank in silence for a moment longer, and as he fixed her another cup, she spoke again. “How many days was I asleep for?”

His movements stilled as he turned his head sharply to look at her, the liquid somehow staying in its container. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I sleep for days at a time. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep until I wake up and someone tells me.”

He finished fixing her tea with stiff movements before he handed it back to her. “This curse is quite awful, isn’t it….” he mused softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “You were only asleep for a few hours. I assume the pain relief caused you to fully relax for the first time in quite a while.”

“Yes. Pain potions stopped working over a year ago, and after I cast the spell I refused to keep taking them for fear of becoming addicted to something that didn’t help. The decision was aided in that they made me fill extremely ill as well.”

Sorrow crossed his face, and he stroked her velvety skin once more. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, Kel.”

She smiled and took his hand in her own. “That’s fine, Tom. You’re here now. That’s all the matters.”

|}(April 2004){|

“Auntie Kella, watch this!”

Akelda looked up from her parchments and watch in horror as a six year old Canyon jumped from the head of the wolf statue and towards the fountain 25 feet below him. As he fell, she realized he would miss the deep water—she had it deepened quite a lot after Morkere pulled the same stunt—and would hit the stone rim instead.

She shouted and reached out her hand, magic swirled around her fingers, before a soft pink light left them and encircled her godson, slowing his fall until he landed gently on the rim of the fountain. Unfortunately, he was just like her and a walking health hazard and immediately fell backwards into the water.

She pushed herself out of her chair and marched over to him, the worry, fear, and adrenaline overpowering the blistering pain in her feet, legs, soul, and Core as she did so. “Canyon Morginnson! How could you?” she shouted frantically. “You could have been seriously hurt!” She climbed into the fountain and started checking over the slightly giggling boy, very unaware of the damage she was inflicting upon her own body.

She lifted him onto the rim and started checking him over, the water lapping gently at her chest. “Why would you do such a thing?” she asked desperately as she ran her fingers around his sides.

The giggling stopped as it clicked in the child’s mind that his was in fact, very much in trouble. “I wanted to impress you, make you smile. You don’t smile unless Lord Slytherin-Gaunt is here, and, he hasn’t been here in a while,” he explained as he looked at his feet. He lifted his head and his eyes widened. “Auntie Kella!”

Her head snapped up and she met his own wide eyes. “What is it? Are you hurt?” she demanded.

“You’re bleeding.”

She paused in her checking of his face. “What?”

He reached out a small hand and touched her upper lip, his fingers drawing back, covered in dark blood. Her eyebrows furrowed and she lifted her own hand and wiped at her nose. Icy fear flooded her veins as something hot dripped down the sides of her neck, and her vision tinged red as what felt like tears fell down her face. “Canyon,” she whispered, “get help.”

The adrenaline faded, ushered out by fear, and her world erupted into pain, and she fell below the water with a splash.

|}(April 2004){|

Jonas flinched and dropped the stack of tomes he had hovering over his head—he added in a few choice words—when the frantic screeching of Monsey echoed throughout his shop. “Master Jonas!” she shrieked. “Mistress needs helps immediately!”

He turned and met the eyes of his shop boy, and when the boy waved him away, he took the elf’s small hand and the two were whisked away.

“Daddy!” was the first thing he heard upon arrival at the center of the maze. He met the wide, frantic eyes of his youngest child, and his heart stopped when his own eyes registered that he was desperately trying to hold Akelda above the surface of the water.

The water surrounding his son and adopted sister was stained with blood—her blood, most likely. What in Mordred’s name happened?

He leapt into action when his son cried out once more and quickly lifted Akelda out of the fountain, taking away the burden from his son. “Monsey, take Canyon to Illverness. Tell her to meet me at St. Mungo’s with the other children, and tell her to take Morkere out of school as well. Then, you need to go get Lord Slytherin-Gaunt.”

“Yes, Master Jonas.”

|}(April 2004){|

To say Tom was confused would be an understatement. Perhaps even the understatement of the century.

He had been in his office going over laws that either needed his approval or his denial when Kel’s main house elf appeared in the center of the room, a frantic mess as she blubbered loudly about her mistress. Once he had been able to calm the creature enough for her to tell him what had happened and then further convince her to take him to her, a _significant_ amount of time had passed, and a not insignificant amount of adrenaline was coursing painfully through his veins like fire.

The moment he appeared in the lobby of St. Mungo’s, something in him snapped—what happened to make her land _here_?—and he lost all control of his magic, and was quickly directed to his soulmate’s rooms where he was forced to wait in the receiving area with her frantic family. He had been in this situation before, over seven years prior, and he hated being in it once more. His magic tore at the walls and wrapped around her godchildren and Jonas and his fiancée, comforting them where he could not.

From what he had been able to gather from Canyon, the boy had tried to pull a stunt which had scared Kel enough for her to access her magic which had been locked away for her safety—some sort of failsafe in the face of the final stages of the bloodcurse (and would stay locked away until her body could handle the strain once more).

The magic she had used was wandless, and non-verbal, almost identical to accidental magic—due to her age and proficiency with magic, they (the Healers) refused to call it accidental (even though it most likely was). She had slowed his fall, and then ran over to him to check on him—she hadn’t been able to walk for over seven years. It was while she was in the fountain and checking over the boy that the Curse had overcome her.

From the healers who had been brought in from Norway, they learned that the Curse had been progressed to the point that she didn’t think she would—could—make it.

For the nth time he ran his fingers through his dark hair, and paced back and forth. There _had_ to be something he could do. She had been doing _so well_ since he had started to court her nearly a year prior—he absently stroked the diamond ring in his pocket. The specialists from her Homeland had assured them that if he continued to be in regular contact with her, that in about three years, she _could_ be back to normal—back to how she was before the Curse surfaced.

Mordred, he missed her carefree smile, the way she’d dance when she was putting books away, and how she’d always— _always_ —pull him into dancing with her.

Now, they didn’t even know if she would make it until morning.

The door behind him opened, and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when they opened, the frozen expanse of blue was gone, and instead a hellish pit of glowing red resided.

He turned to the Healer, and basked in her terror.

|}(April 2004){|

Slowly, ever so slowly, she was coaxed out of the darkness.

Hands were on her face, her hands, her arms, her _sides_.

Lips were on her cheeks, her chin, her forehead, her _nose_.

Magic caressed her soul, her skin, her _Core_.

She opened her eyes and stared into horrifying pits of red. “Tom,” she whispered softly, sorrow piercing her heart. His arms wrapped tightly around her, and he pressed his lips to hers. Boiling tears fell onto her eyelids as his lips moved insistently against her own, as his tongue wrapped around hers with familiarity, as fire scorched her soul.

“Akelda,” he rasped in a husky voice full of sorrow. He pulled away just enough to allow gazing into each other’s eyes easy.

“What’s going on?” she whispered, the distinct taste of blood in her mouth. Had he bit her lips? “What happened?” She swallowed and hid the grimace—he really was too fond of biting her.

He closed his eyes and again tears fell out onto her cheeks. “You’re dying,” he growled under his breath, desperation clear as he spoke. He pulled her close, so the entirety of their bodies were tangled together as they lay on the small hospital bed. He proceeded to explain what had happened for her to end up in the unfortunately familiar hospital room, and her hazy memories cleared. “The Healers think that the only way that you’ll live is if we do the _Corpora Anima_ bonding ceremony.”

Akelda’s eyes widened. The _Corpora Anima_ bonding was a _dark_ Dark ritual—even for those who studied and practiced the blackest of Dark magic considered it some of the Darkest and most heinous magic around. It was typically only utilized by those who one of the two practitioners was afflicted with the _Anima Contritum_ curse—another bloodcurse similar to her own, only much, much worse (instead of locking the magic away and dying due to magic loss, your magic ate you alive, and it was infinitely more painful than her own). The bonding was dangerous—almost as dangerous as the curse it was created to reverse—and most people—couples—died in the performance of it due to not meeting the strict requirements.

She stared into Tom’s eyes and saw the desperation in them. She knew she loved him, and as she watched him stare down at her, she knew he loved her with his entire heart.

He slipped his family ring—the Slytherin ring, not the Gaunt—on her finger and she nodded. “Alright.”

Hopefully their love was strong enough, and pure enough to survive the ritual.

|}(September 2023){|

Akelda buried her nose into Tom’s bare shoulder as the bed bounced. She groaned softly and snuggled into his warmth as he chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. His arms wrapped snuggly around her thin form and warmth filled her as his loved poured through the Bond, and the ring on her finger.

“Mom! Dad! It’s time for you two to get up!” their eldest demanded as he jumped on the bed.

“Runar, you are _far_ too old to be jumping on the bed,” Tom reprimanded softly, his voice thick with sleep. She pressed a kiss to the skin above his heart and he pressed on to the top of her hand and ran his hand up and down her side.

Had she been looking at her son, she would have seen the happy grin on his face that was always there when he saw them act like this—they only acted this way when they thought they were entirely alone (or it was early—like now). “And it is far too late for _you two_ to be in bed!”

Akelda cast a wandless _tempus_ charm and groaned into Tom’s chest. “Runar, it’s _seven_ in the _morning_ ,” she moaned, causing both of the men to laugh. “On a _Saturday_.”

Runar laughed and plopped on the bed next to his mother. “It’s not my fault that you two only sleep on the weekends.”

“Go bother your siblings, Rune,” she muttered softly.

“They’re already up and waiting for the two of you.”

“They said terrible two’s was awful. I think teenager is worse. They actually _know_ things,” she muttered as Tom asked why they were up so early, the slight squeeze on her side the only indication that he heard her.

“It’s September first.”

The two adults sat up rapidly and stared owlishly at each other and then their son. The three erupted into laughter. “We completely forgot!” she giggled rapidly.

Tom waved his hand at Runar, which sent the boy off the bed and gently deposited him on the ground by the door. “We’ll be down shortly.”

“Alright, but, hurry. Uncle Jonas and the cousins are here. And the house elves have already started serving breakfast as well,” he informed them before he left, the door swinging shut silently behind him.

Tom leaned over and greeted his wife with a deep kiss. “Good morning,” he muttered softly against her lips.

She smiled and pecked his lips multiple times in quick succession. “Good morning, my love,” she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to pull her into his lap. He tucked her head under his chin and slipped his hands underneath the old cotton shirt she wore to bed—she stole it from him years ago. “Mordred,” she sighed softly, “when did he grow up, Tom?” she asked before she pressed a kiss into his neck.

He shook his head and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I don’t know. It might have been all off the deportment and politics lessons we’ve put him through since he could talk,” he suggested as he ran his fingers up and down the smooth skin of her back. “Or perhaps Illverness has something to do with it.”

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Perhaps. I think it might be more likely that you’re his hero and he tries to emulate you.”

Tom hummed low in his throat and pulled her into another deep kiss.

Shrieks of laughter from their own seven children, Jonas’ nine, Morkere’s four, Season’s three, Amaryllis’ one, and Canyon’s two, drifted up to the fifth floor of Wolffe Castle, the seat of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Wolffe in Honninsvåg, Norway. They spent the summers and falls there, and the springs and winters in Slytherin Castle in Scarborough, England.

“We should probably go make sure they don’t blow something up again,” she muttered as memories from the last two years filtered through her mind.

Her husband laughed deeply and nodded his agreement. “We should. Jonas and Morganie are talented, but, I don’t think they can handle 12 teenagers this early in the morning. Especially with all of the sugar the elves are most definitely feeding them right now. And the other four will have their hands full with the ten children.”

The two laughed at the knowledge, and quickly dressed before they made their way down to the Formal Dining Room where their large family eagerly awaited them.

|}(September 2023){|

The large group stood on Platform 9 ¾, hugs, laughter and tears spreading all around those surrounded by aurors from both Norway and Britain. This was the first and only year that all of their children would be at Hogwarts at the same time—both her and Tom’s children, and the children that Jonas ended up having with his second wife, Morganie.

“Bye, mom, dad,” Runar Jonas Riddle said as he wrapped his mother’s small frame in his long arms before moving onto his father. He had been named after his grandfather, and her surrogate brother, and was going into his final year of schooling.

“Behave,” she said as he re-shouldered his book bag. He rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I always do, mom.”

Ira walked up to him and slung his arm over his shoulders. “Come on, cuz, this is your final year, stop _behaving_.”

Akelda rolled her eyes. Ira was Jonas’ third son and the worst influence on Runar. “Ira, if something happens that he can’t take over the Seat, I want you to know you _will_ suffer,” she said conversationally. Runar was set to take over the Wolffe Seat on the Norwegian Wizengamot after he graduated, as was customary of the Heirs of the House. Along with Heir duties, he would take on half of the duties that Akelda dealt with until he married and had his first child—at which point he would become Lord Wolffe.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Akelda, I won’t let him get killed.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she muttered as the two ran off, no doubt to find their friends. She turned to her husband distressed. “Tom—”

“Hush, love. He’ll be fine.” He pressed a loving kiss to the side of her head and she leaned into his side.

“Have you _met_ Ira?”

“Unfortunately,” a new voice cut in.

“Temple Marvolo!” Tom admonished softly through his own restrained laughter. “Be nice.”

Their second eldest lifted his eyebrow. “This coming from _you_? Wow. Mom, I think the world is coming to an end. _Dad_ just told me to be _nice_.”

She laughed and opened her arms for the sixth year. “Don’t worry, hun. He’s telling _you_ to be nice, not that _he’ll_ be nice.”

“But—still.”

The three laughed joyfully and finished saying their farewells. “Temple,” Tom started as their son turned to head to the train.

“Yeah, dad?”

“Don’t do something that I wouldn’t.”

He tilted his head to the side, a smirk pulled at his lips—a perfect mimicry of his father. “What would the Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Slytherin not do?”

Tom smirked. “That’s up to you, son. Make your ancestor proud.”

Temple laughed and waved his hand before climbing on the train, his female ‘followers’—stalkers—drooling after him as he went. “Morgana bless the Ministry when he joins,” she whispered as he faded from view.

Her husband hummed and kissed the side of her neck. “I’ll be there to protect him.”

She snorted delicately. “And who will protect the others?”

“Why mother dearest, I can’t believe you have such little faith in me,” Lucian teased as he walked up behind them. He wrestled her out of his father’s grip and lifted her off of the ground and spun her around.

“Lucian Caspian!” she squealed through her laughter as she clung to him.

“I would like my wife back,” Tom said softly, the fact that it was his son who stole his wife was the only thing that kept the pure malice out of his voice. She wanted to blame his possessiveness on their Bond and the Horcruxes, but, even when she was a teenager he happened to be possessive—not _as_ possessive, but still….

“Can I have the Coats Lordship?” he bargained as he held her high off of the ground.

“Not until you graduate,” Akelda hissed, “and that’s only _if_ you _put me down_!”

She was put on the ground and Tom wrapped his arms securely around her. “Why can’t I have it sooner?” their son whined.

“Because that’s Coats tradition, you know this Luce. You have to finish your schooling before you can become Lord Coats.” The only reason she got it when she did was because the Estate didn’t have anyone.

“Give your mother a hug and a kiss, and we’ll talk about it,” Tom urged. After Lucian did as told, he and Flame, his best friend and Jonas’ fourth son, climbed on the train, a girl joining them halfway to the vehicle and causing their son to blush.

“How much do you want to bet _that’s_ the reason he so desperately wants the Lordship?” she whispered to Tom as they watched the fifth years disappear.

“Hmm…a _significant_ amount of money,” Tom whispered before he nipped her ear, causing her to giggle and attempt to elbow his stomach.

“Can’t you two do that elsewhere?” Jayden, their fourth son demanded as he joined the two lovebirds. “Like, _anywhere_ else, where _I_ don’t have to see?”

Akelda laughed as Tom licked her neck. “Tom!” she wailed softly as her son groaned and covered his eyes.

“Menaces. You two are the ultimate pests!”

“It’s a good thing you learned from the best then,” she teased as she wiped at her wet neck.

“Dad!” he wailed.

“Don’t look at him, he was the one who taught me.”

“ _Dad_!”

Tom laughed deeply and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “She’s right, unfortunately.”

Jayden sighed. “You don’t deserve the Gaunt House,” he muttered mutinously.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing!” he sing-songed.

“Jayden Njord—”

“Tom—” She placed a hand on his own that rested on her stomach. “—he’s a child. Let him be a little rebellious before he takes over the Lordship when he’s 25.”

“What!? I thought it was 21!”

“If you continue to speak to your father that way, it’s going to be 30.”

“Evil. Pure evil. Both of you.”

“Jay-Jay!” Oh Mordred, Lucian was hanging out a window. “Come on!”

“Go save your brother, _please_.” Akelda blinked. “He just ran off without saying goodbye, didn’t he?”

Tom chuckled. “Yes.”

Their fifth child, Oskar—he insisted on being called Wolffe though—came up and cuddled into Akelda’s side. He had always been a ‘Mama’s Boy’ and he was proud of it. “Do I have to go?” he asked for the seventh time that day.

“Yes, my sweet angel.”

Tom ruffled his hair and placed a kiss on the third year’s head. “It’ll be fine, Wolffe. You have Nova and your other friends.”

“But—why can’t you two come teach?” he demanded as he held onto his mother tighter.

“You know why.”

“So, when Rune and Luce take over the Lordships you can come teach?” They were the two Lordships out of the five in the family that took up the most time and energy, Tom often had to help her when he could since Linus and Eastmund both passed away five and seven years ago, respectively—she still hadn’t found people she trusted enough to help her (Jonas refused—something about manly book strength).

“No, my sweetling.”

The 13 year old scowled and held even tighter. “I don’t wanna go,” he moaned.

“Too bad, Wolfy!” Jayden had returned. He pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek and gave his father a hug before forcing Oskar to do the same and threw the boy over his shoulder. Nova, Jonas’ fifth son scrambled after them.

“Stop feeling bad about the Selwyn Lordship,” Tom whispered when they were out of sight.

“But, he doesn’t want it.”

“I know. Either he’ll grow into it or Junior will take over.”

“ _Mordred no_!” she moaned. “He’d blow it up!”

“What would I blow up?” Tom Jasper asked as he stepped up to his parents.

“How do you know it’s you we’re talking about?” Tom asked with a raised brow.

“You said ‘he’ and ‘blow up’ after swearing. That typically means you’re talking about me.” The adults laughed.

“You are very smart,” she praised.

“I’m a Ravenclaw, of course I’m smart. Now, dad, how much money will you give me if I find the Chamber this year?”

“3,000 galleons.”

“But—last year was 4,000!”

“Because you had four years to find it last year, this year you only have three.”

Junior scowled before he crossed his arms and nodded. “I hope you’re prepared to lose 3,000 galleons this year.”

“I look forward to it.”

He quickly said goodbye to his parents before he ran off and joined his friends, no doubt theorizing on where the Chamber could be.

“Do you really think he’ll find it?”

“Not before fourth year. I’ll eat one of Luce’s socks after Quidditch practice if he does.”

“I hope you know I’ll hold you to that.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead with a grimace. “I know.”

|}(September 2023){|

Akelda stood next to Morganie and Jonas as she watched Tom say goodbye to their youngest, Aethelthryd. She was their only daughter, and was named after her grandmother. “Do you ever regret it?” Morganie asked as they watched the father and daughter duo.

“Late at night, before I sleep, sometimes. But, Tom and I did _a lot_ of thinking, and, we don’t regret having a daughter. We’ve both wanted one, and we’re prepared to cast the necessary spells and rituals needed when she’s sixteen. _She’s_ prepared for it as well. We’ve talked to her about it many times, and, the sweet angel doesn’t hold a grudge against us, unlike me with my mother. So, I guess that’s the long answer and the short answer is no. I don’t regret having a daughter. I could never regret having one.”

And it was true. She didn’t regret having a daughter, and she didn’t regret stopping at seven. But, after watching her precious daughter board the train for the first time after saying her goodbyes, she had to wonder if they stopped at the right number, or should they have had more children.

As she watched the Express pull out of the station, with all seven of her children leaning out of the windows, waving to her and her husband, tears spilled out of her eyes, and she leaned into Tom’s comforting embrace. When he placed a kiss against her shoulder, and then her neck, kissing away the tears that had fallen from both their eyes, she was content.

She wouldn’t change anything in her life.

|}(November 2023){|

Akelda huddled into Tom’s side as they strolled down the always busy streets of Diagon Alley. “What do you think Thelly will want?” she asked softly.

Tom pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “I don’t know. We got the other’s knick-knacks for getting their first O on an exam.”

“I don’t think she’d like a knick-knack though…a book, perhaps?”

Tom pulled her into _Madame Raoul’s Tomes and Scrolls_ and they looked for something that might interest their daughter. After finding four books on different runic alphabets—she had a gift with Runes—they stepped back into the frigid air, the presents secured in her bag.

He immediately wrapped his arm around her and bundled her close under his own cloak and pulled her near, nearly tripping them as he did so. “If I didn’t know better, Mr. Riddle,” she started teasing him, “I’d say that you were purposefully making it cold.”

He smirked and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Hmm…. Mrs. Riddle, I think you might be on to something.” She playfully smacked his chest and kissed his lips, and they continued on down the Alley, often being stopped by those who wished to speak with the British Minister of Magic, or the Lady Wolffe.

They slowly continued down, pausing to either look at offered items—AKA Sparkles—or buy things that they needed—AKA Books (possibly too many, but, it’s not hoarding if it’s books). With full pockets, and frozen hands, they came upon a familiar spot. She paused and stared down that darkened alley and allowed memories to wash over her.

“Do you want to go down there?” her husband asked softly as he stroked the ring that held a portion of her soul.

She nodded her head. “Yes, I do.” He placed a gentle kiss against her lips, nose, and cheeks before he smiled softly at her, the Bond, and the ring that held a portion of his own soul heating with his love for her.

“Then let us go.”

And together they stepped into the Darkness of Knockturn Alley where they had first met, where they had first kissed, and where they had ultimately fallen in love.

* * *

_It had started out, as a morbid curiosity._

And after her first taste,

_It grew to an obsession._

After she made a friend,

 _It developed into a want_.

After she lost her family,

_It evolved into a need._

And once she became of age,

 _It brought forth her salvation_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah... Hope you liked it. I've been thinking of maybe writing a follow up where it's Aethelthryd's story. I've also been thinking of writing Tom's and Akelda's relationship from before the curse in his POV... I don't know though. Thoughts and opinions are more than welcome, along with constructive criticism.
> 
> Another note, this has magic from another fic I've been working on, the curse that heals them... this is kind of like that, only much shorter, and different. I'm still working on the plot, but, if this gets enough likes I might post it once I finish the main planning that I've been doing for nearly a year now--I have another fic that's taken over my entire life, and I have my own original works that I'm working on as well.


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